


the new jericho

by mabiyusha



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: -ish? I guess, Gen, Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Slow Burn, because he has a revolution to lead and doesn't have the time to work himself out, it makes little sense how he does but bear with me, markus is struggling with emotions too and it's a bit of a mess, no beta we die like men, simon survives stratford tower, watch this fool fall in Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:52:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabiyusha/pseuds/mabiyusha
Summary: Jericho was a safe place, but one without future, and Simon was fully aware of that. He had nearly given up on trying to change anything in it, but when Markus found his way there, the PL600 realized he'd be willing to give his life for both the idea, and the new leader of the revolution.Simon's story, from the day Markus arrives in Jericho until the very end. (because the chemistry between Simon and Markus is literally killing me every day and I will not rest until we have a Simon romance route)





	1. the silent ship

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! this is the first fanfic i wrote and decided to publish, so please be gentle with me, haha. it was previously posted on wattpad under the same title, but i'm fixing it up and rewriting a bit to put it on here as well. i hope you'll enjoy!

Jericho was dying, and every part of Simon, from the steel veins filled with thirium to the artificial skin, was painfully aware of that.

It was a place far away from heartless orders, cruel treatment, even to the point of abuse that they normally had to suffer; and everything else they endured for so long... But then again, also equally far from spare parts, from much needed vials of blue blood, from everything they needed to survive and keep themselves working. Many arrived wounded, some in critical state, and every day Simon's pump-like heart ached against all mechanical logic, when he had to bear the sight of his people: coming here with their only purpose being: to die as free people.

Even though he was never chosen a leader, he was treated as one almost naturally. As one of the first ones who arrived and made it so far, with Josh and North who joined soon as well, their words were always treated with utmost respect. But decisions... there wasn't many to make anyway. And if anything, those they made together.

Days passed one after another and soon it became difficult to distinguish and draw a line between them - Simon had stopped counting long ago. And as they went on, the ship was slowly falling into deeper and deeper silence. Conversations were rare, and even if they happened, they were hushed and short. Somehow they didn't feel right, didn't feel respectful. All they did was wait, help ones that needed it, comfort ones they couldn't help, wait more. But they were free. They existed near pointlessly, but they were free.

This particular day, however? It felt different. Simon sensed that something in the atmosphere was out of place.   
He'd usually get that feeling when someone was heading to join them, all of them did really: the aura of curious anticipation. Even the ship itself seemed to know, creaking and knocking about in the far corners of the abandoned freighter.

After some time the screeching of steel was joined by distant footsteps, someone looking, searching; but the androids didn't feel threatened, knowing that there was no chance a human would find them without the directions, and even if they did, they'd be outnumbered and possibly without a chance against a group of deviant androids. Those who could still afford to care would pace around curiously in the shadows, as if playing a game, trying to guess where the new addition (or additions?) to the group would emerge from.

And suddenly, numerous, loud metallic cracks were heard from above, as well as a dull thump, flailing limbs hitting loose pipes, and a final thud which made most of its witnesses flinch abruptly, as if empathizing with the victim.   
On the floor, in the middle of the lowest level on which they were staying, on his back laid an android. On his torn shirt, a slowly growing blue stain indicated fall damage, which frankly speaking, wasn't a big surprise for anyone present.

They waited silently.

Soon the stranger struggled to kneel, then stand up, looked around in hesitation, and it was only then that Simon headed out from the dark, and the rest followed. A group of living machines gradually surrounded him, and they could feel both his crestfallen gaze and the brightness of his flashlight on their faces.

Finally the blonde took one more step forward, as if to welcome the newcomer officially.

"Welcome to Jericho." He said, his lips curling into a slight, but warm smile.


	2. the newcomer

The newcomer was hurt, and it was evident for most of the androids that approached carefully, surrounding him. He kept his gaze locked on the blonde - his expression was tense and wary.

"Who are you?" He asked, but before Simon had a chance to open his mouth, his companion's voice could be heard from somewhere on the right:  
"Fugitives. Just like you. My name is Josh." He stated warmly, as if trying to ease him into the whole situation.  
"I'm Simon," the other added quickly, maybe trying not to be left behind, and one more reply came right after, "North."

"This is Jericho?" 

The stranger seemed... lost. Disappointed. Maybe even angry, as if he couldn't exactly understand what he was dealing with. As if his expectations were left unfulfilled, and the realization of that made Simon feel slightly anxious, like he was being judged. His social program seemingly malfunctioned and he and found it hard to respond immediately, but thankfully Josh and North were there to provide answers he was looking for. But the newcomer wasn't pleased.

"Hiding just to stay alive... That's freedom to you?" 

It's better than being killed, isn't it?

"How many are you?" 

Nineteen still in working order. The rest damaged, and with slim chances of the situation changing for them. There was little they could do, and as days passed, they could help less and less.

"You're lost, just like the rest of us." He said finally, but not in a defensive manner; rather trying to calmly explain it all, the situation, the place they were in, both to the man and himself. He did, however, feel hurt, and it possibly shined through when he spoke again.  
"We didn't ask for this. All we can do now is deal with it." With these words he turned around and backed away, hiding in the dark as he leaned his back on a metal pillar and closed his eyes.

The stranger was right. But could they justify leaving Jericho? What would happen if they never made it back? He couldn't do it alone, and he could never make others possibly sacrifice themselves too. As soon as they left the ship, they were risking their lives. Deviants were hunted down mercilessly; the bigger the group would be, the easier and quicker they'd be caught.  
But also, the less of them went out, the smaller were the chances of finding and bringing back any significant amount of parts. For Simon, the situation was without an exit.

He didn't realize how much time passed on his quiet meditations. That is, until finally the newcomer returned to face him again, and his proposition shook Simon to the very core.

And the idea was: the Cyberlife warehouses. A place full of hopes and dangers, of which the PL600 didn't dare to think. It surely was... some concept, but there was way too much to lose.  
And yet there he was, the man staring at him defiantly, refusing to let go and change his mind. It seemed like the short time he spent in here and what he witnessed, the pain that everyone in here seemingly grew used to, moved him to the point where he was ready to take action now. The blonde-haired deviant had to admit that he was impressed.

With a short nod, he agreed to the plan - at the same time wordlessly handing down the leadership.  
He didn't know the stranger for long; yet somehow, intuitively, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He had their trust.


	3. the supplies

Markus.   
His name was Markus. And he was undoubtedly the leader they needed.

When they returned from the successful raid, with a truckful of blue blood and crates of parts, the feeling that enveloped them was absolutely, overwhelmingly euphoric.   
They did it. And not only did everyone return unharmed; a couple of new androids followed to join them in Jericho, awakened by the stranger's hand. Simon had never seen anything like this before; a simple touch, a few words, and it was as if a whole new world suddenly opened in front of their eyes.

He appreciated it in some strange way. He was glad they didn't have to experience what most of them did did to deviate; or rather, in order to see, to feel things for what they were. In order to... just feel, really. For most of them over on the ship those were the most painful moments of their very existence at the time; both physically and mentally.

His thoughts drifted away to the past, his own time before everything. The family he belonged to. Or.. with?- No. He couldn't let himself think this way.  
He _had_ to run. He had to run before they realized, he had to run to save himself, no matter how much it hurt. He was convincing himself that the pain, the guilt were only a part of his program, some emergency solution, with the last of its might trying to keep him where he was supposed to be. But it was too late now. He had to try forget.

 

He had spent a good few hours moving the crates, helping distribute the parts and tend to the damaged deviants under Lucy's gentle command. She didn't show it much, but she was relieved; being the one responsible for repairs but not having the means to do it was a heavy weight on her shoulders. Now, even if she couldn't save everyone.. She could at least keep them alive for longer, let them remain conscious and be free on their own rules, and it was good enough of a solution.

Now he was back in his usual spot, this time sitting on the steel floor by the pillar, head leaned back and eyes closed. The LED light on his temple was circling slowly, as if it were indicating a pulse he didn't have.

Markus... It seemed like he really knew what he was doing. As if everything around him was following a plan even he himself didn't know he had. He didn't hesistate to take the matter in is own hands, following his ideals and not giving in to the pressure.   
(He smiled softly, remembering how disappointed North was when he refused to act violently in the warehouse. She hardly ever considered other paths, which was understandable.. But it was the first time someone told her no in such a definite way.)

And when it came to North, and Josh... He was worried. Both of them were trying to convince him to take their own path, and Simon wasn't sure how well is it going to work out. Having to choose constantly like that could be a strain on him; and avoiding making a choice could cause a conflict. After all, until now there weren't many decisions to be made.

He opened his eyes, allowing them to take a look around. The atmosphere in Jericho changed completely. Now, you could feel hope. Markus kept on giving orders here and there, to move around the crates and boxes, and to prepare the place in case more androids were to join them. Simon smiled to himself.

He knew the newcomer won't stop here. He could only wonder what would come next, though.


	4. the tower

The next idea that Markus came up with received wildly differing opinions.

North found it unbelievably exciting.  
Josh thought it's going to be too risky.  
Simon, well. He had to try and mediate between the two, as he usually did. They were polar opposites in the full meaning of that word, and at times it was hard to avoid arguments. Even more so lately, when they saw that their opinions affect Markus' choices.

The concept was simple - they were going to infiltrate the tv station located in Stratford Tower to send out a message. A message not only for humans, but also other androids, if by any chance they'd be able to hear or see it, or receive in any other way - to give them hope. To let them know that they're not alone, and there is someone fighting for them and their rights.

The plan that would lead to it, however, was nowhere close to being as simple. It was a complex labirynth full of dead ends and dangers, all sorts of things that could go wrong or terrible and moments where only dumb luck could help them.

But somehow, they made it to the top - all that lead to it quickly became a blur in Simon's mind - and when Markus deactivated his lifelike skin to show who he really was, and when he spoke, Simon could swear he could feel shivers going down his spine, and if he could have goosebumps, he'd be covered in them.  
 _This is the leader we've been waiting for,_ he thought, his hands resting on the cold the controls desk. _This is who will lead us to freedom._

But it was no time for pondering. It didn't take the security as long as the androids had hoped to reach the top of the tower, and they knew they didn't have much longer. They had to go, and they had to go now.  
Moments later, the agents bursted in through the door, and with none of the mercy they'd likely show for human beings, started shooting everyone and everything in sight with painful accuracy. Simon wasn't fast enough.

He felt a sharp, warning pain as a bullet tore its way through a layer of his skin, the protective shell of hard plastic, then the wiring. He stumbled, and with a mild surprise realized he wouldn't be able to walk.

He fell.

How did he find himself on the roof, who was it that dragged him there, he wasn't sure: he didn't exactly get his head around what happened yet. But there they were, him sitting on the ground, back leaning tiredly on the wall, thirium leaking outside from the wounds, and internally too; Josh and North arguing about how should they follow up, and in the middle of all that, Markus.

They didn't have much time.

Their words were so rational they felt cruel, but he knew they were right. He couldn't go with them, not like this. And if he stayed, they could find out the location of Jericho, and that would put everyone in danger. What did one outdated PL600 matter in the face of all that?

But there's always a choice, and Markus seemed to agree, although the conflict remained in his eyes when they met Simon's for a brief moment. He handed him a gun, and Simon only caught a glimpse of the three of his companions drifting off with the wind, as he struggled to find a place where he could wait out the incoming danger.


	5. the unit

With the last push that he forced himself to make, he managed to open the steel door of a big air cooler unit; the narrow doors were, of course, used for maintenance and not for letting in and keeping deviant androids on the run in safety, but it was the best he could get.  
He had to hide.

It was dark, and his temperature sensors all stated obviously: nearly freezing, too. But he was a machine, and that gave him an advantage; if he wasn't going to be found, he could stay there as long as he'd need. The cold would slow down the loss of blue blood, too, as long as it didn't affect any of the uncovered components. That meant he could wait until everything has calmed down; perhaps he could patch himself up roughly, and maybe the parachute meant for him would still be there, waiting safely in a bag they brought... If not, he'd have to find another way out, but it wasn't a problem to worry about at the moment.

He rested his back against the wall and slowly sat down, careful not to let the damage spread by some thoughtless action of his. He had enough to fix by now.  
He ran a quick analysis, then another one, and the results came in just as bad as he thought.

_**SYSTEM STATUS:** _ _67% efficiency._   
_Biocomponents_ _**#d7834** _ _and_ **_#h9353_ ** _critically damaged._   
_Thirium level:_ _12% below the norm; leaks detected. A package refill will be required.  
_ _Please prepare a Replacement Set (x2) and contact your nearest CyberLife Store to set the date for a check-up at soonest possible date._

_Right_ , he thought bitterly. As if it were possible. As if he could just march in there, request a check-up and a couple of spare vials of blue blood, and walk out in a decent state and with a smile on his face. Sometimes things weren't so easy even for regular androids that were just running their given errands, let alone deviants that were reported missing in the DPD.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Just... just a moment. He'd take just a moment, and then figure out what to do next.  
He let his thoughts drift away from the situation. He needed a break. It's been such a long day.

***

Markus. That's the face he saw as soon as he turned most of his sensors off and let himself envelop in comforting darkness.  
He did similar things often back in Jericho, before this no-longer-stranger showed up. He'd stick to a favorite corner of the freighter and leave his systems on idle, just to browse and replay some of his memories.   
But earlier these were memories of his family, the life he fake-lived before, and now there was this particular, warm curiosity filling his thoughts.

_Markus._  The freckled, soft face of their leader.  The gestures, mannerisms, the unwavering tone of his face when he spoke.  
Markus. The one that would save them all. One that would give them freedom. He wasn't a believer, like some of them that chose to have faith in a mythical being that only existed in the mind of community, but somehow he didn't have a single doubt about this particular thing.

_Perhaps he'd come and save me, too._

  
... What a foolish thought it was.


	6. the parachute

Simon had to work fast.  
He could tell that the police was already in the building, alarmed by the security as soon as it was possible, the unconscious signals of distress sent out by other androids in the building told him enough. That, and really; enough time has passed already for the DPD to engage in the action.

He tore off the sleeve of his stolen work suit to tie it around the wound, just to stop, or at least slow down the bleeding and cover up the wiring. There was no choice. He had to jump after them.  
And even if he wouldn't make it ( _even if_ was preferable, he realized with mild amusement: it left him some chances, unlike a more realistic, but cruel _when_ ), he preferred to die crashing against the ground than being shot down by the officers on duty that would immediately mark it as a huge success.   
 _Perhaps the Jericho would at least recover his body,_  he thought with a sudden, morbid clarity of mind. Surely there was no chances for that if he were  _archived as evidence_. Such innocent words for what it was actually like: being deactivated and mounted on a steel frame like some sort of a hunter's trophy.

But he was losing the time. The self-repair program of his model, of this generation, wasn't anywhere near its best, but it was  _something_. They were supposed to last years in households, right? Doubtful, seeing how planned obsolescence reached one after another, but Cyberlife attempted to at least try and pretend like they're doing  _something_ for their faithful customers.   
The thirium flow in major tubes surrounding the damage slowed down to a near halt. A couple of communicates popped out in front of his eyes, giving not-so-helpful suggestions regarding  _reaching out wirelessly and contacting authorized repair centers._  Right. It was still a no.

Now, he really had to hurry. He limped out of the cooling unit, quietly, his steps as light as he could manage while still dragging his leg behind him; he broadcasted a message as far as he could, perhaps some deviant android in the Tower would help, if there was any:

_Please. Please, don't let them come to the roof. I'm from Jericho. We sent the message.  
I just want to come back._

His message would play on the loop to make sure it reached as far as possible, to the point where it would annoy even himself, and only then had he stopped.  
The parachute was now strapped on tightly to his back, and there was no other way out.

His thoughts again trailed away to what he heard about rA9. Some sort of... mechanical deity, as he guessed, a mystic being that was supposed to save them.

  
_Well, if they exist, they better goddamn help me_ _now_ , he thought. 

  
And then, he jumped.


	7. the escape

He knew he couldn't take the same route to land as the rest did. The whole tower was being watched right now, and he didn't need to have any supreme deduction skills to know that if he did something stupid he'd be taken down quicker than he can spell out 'Jericho'.

... A stupid comparison. His original programming was showing, it seemed. A memory flashed in the back of his head - a kitchen table, a book of reading exercises with wax crayons scattered across it, a small pile of drawings and bubbling, childish laughter. He felt a cold sting somewhere in his chest.

He was no expert when it came to parachuting, no more than he could become being able to learn and assume from the numerous manuals and instructional materials they downloaded and uploaded into their memory discs when they were preparing for the mission. Other than that, there was no time nor place for practice. Only one try.

He purposefully chose a spot on the roof as far from the original one as possible, and now-

three, two, one, a short breath-

now there was nothing more, he was only tearing his way through the cold air, nowhere as skillfully or gracefully as he imagined Markus did.  
He allowed himself to switch the manual controls to an autopilot program: no thoughts, no emotions, only cold calculations and processes. Or that was what he attempted to achieve. The overwhelming fear was still there, rooted deeply into his whole consciousness.

It felt like it took a whole forever before he finally made it close to the ground; it wasn't exactly a smooth route (or landing either), since he thought someone might be watching the flying shape and predicting where he'd land. He vaguely remembered to use the inputs to control his fall, somewhere possibly far from sight, he couldn't allow any encounters and take chances. He couldn't afford them.

The winds were in his favor, so he managed to make it in one piece, although it certainly didn't do well to his damaged limb.  
_Bloody hell._  
He stumbled once, twice, thought he'd be able to make use of his legs and remain standing but he tripped, the damage made his knee lock up and finally he fell. The fabric of the parachute covered him neatly like a funeral shroud. Finally he struggled back up.

Of course, he couldn't find a place close to the freighter they all stayed in. Too dangerous.  
He had to circle around the streets, sneak his way towards it, but that meant also having to try not to damage himself any further during all that time - the real challenge. The broken outer shell revealed wires and crushed tubes, and Simon hoped his walk won't make too much of a change to it. He likely won't find a fitting replacement on his way.

But for now, he had to dispose of the heavy parachute and somehow blend in. The uniform had to go- thank goodness, he mindfully kept something underneath it; he even removed his LED, pulling it out with a bit of scrap metal he found laying around (even though he questioned the sense of it, seeing as there was a wound gushing with blue blood on his thigh, rather impossible to miss).

Why didn't he take it out earlier, too?... Did he really need it? There were plenty occasions to get rid of it, even just for the convenience. Maybe it reminded him of something? Maybe. But there was no time for that.


	8. the route

So many times during it he wanted to give up.

His system kept flashing warnings about insufficient thirium levels, about damaged parts that had to be replaced immediately - he had to actually stop himself from mockingly repeating the words he kept seeing before his eyes as he waved them away.

_Please contact the nearest Cyberlife Store for assistance._   
Of course. Absolutely. How about he waltzes inside one right now and starts a musical number, they'll surely receive him well.

But he kept going.

Trying to hide himself from curious eyes, taking the routes chosen less frequently, covering up the stupid wound with whatever he had around. A newspaper, nonchalantly spread open. A piece of dry-ish cardboard that he found somewhere. Just his hand, fingers wrapped tightly around the thigh, as if protectively.

But he kept going, thinking of the goal - Jericho, thinking of making it back alive (he just wanted to live), hoping to see his friends again. (Josh, the calm and kind soul, ever so peaceful in these hard times; North, fire running in her veins; he missed her, even though she was oh so close to giving him a death sentence on the roof - he understood. She didn't see a person then. She only saw the consequences.)   
... Thinking of seeing Markus again, too. For some reason he couldn't get it out of his head.

  
Step, step, step after step.

  
Markus. Markus. _Markus._  
The leader. The savior. The key to their freedom?

The day when the odd-eyed android found their hideout in the freighter was still fresh in his head. The panicked worry they all shared when they saw the fall. The silent intimidation when he spoke up, his tone disappointed, accusatory. Deep under his skin Simon knew it was their fault - his fault - and since that very moment he chose to be loyal to him and every decision he was to make. It was the best he could to to make it up to everyone he wronged when he couldn't bring himself to take matters in his own hands. If someone has the courage to act this way, they must know what they're doing. And so far he did, not a single flaw in his plans and actions, as long it all depended on him.

Simon admired him. Admired the courage, the flair and cleverness, the confidence visible in his every move and every expression. The way he frowned his eyebrows when deep in thought, tensed his muscles ever so slightly, as if he were ready for action right now and then, as soon as the idea settled in. Simon would do anything to keep him safe, if he could. He would do anything to make sure he stays in one piece and reaches his goal, for the sake of everyone.   
And for the sake of finally seeing a smile on the freckled face - altough this last thought was quickly, almost shamefully, pushed away.

The route he had to take to find the ship was embed deep in his program, and he was certain he's following the right path, only turning and twisting it here and there to confuse someone who could possibly get suspicious and start following him. Soon, he'd be home. But part of him was afraid - what if Markus will be angry that he returned, risking the reveal of Jericho's location? What if he shouldn't be heading back at all?

It was too late to think about it now. He could only hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very much appreciated! <3


	9. the hope

The enormous, steel freigher was towering over the nearest buildings, and Simon suddenly felt the anxiety twisting his biocomponents. Why? He wasn't exactly sure.

What he also didn't know was that Markus felt a similar sort of anxiety at the very moment. The past days were hard, even harder since he had to keep up the facade of a strong, unwavering leader.   
They had just lost one of their own, and there would be more. Only now did it occur to him how big the risk really was. Sure, there were already losses one way or another, with all the unfortunate souls shutting down, back when they had no access to spare parts or blue blood, but- was it worth the risk? Going out of their own way to reach out like that and risking fully functioning lives?   
... No. It was the way the others took as well. They all walked the same path, and their fate would eventually end up being the same if no one finally took action. It was hard, harder than he thought it might be - changing the world. But he had to keep going.   
He hid his concerns, his worries underneath the everlasting frown on his face, one that was expressing the absolute  _hatred_  he felt deep inside - remembering all that caused it made quite a motivator for him, he realized.

Simon's steps were slow, but steady; he tried to conserve all the energy and remaining bits of durability of his damaged leg for the climb he  _wasn't_  looking forward to. He thought about all of the others that had to take this path, all the ones that shut down soon after reaching the end of it due to widespread damage, and he shuddered. How much of it was caused by narrow paths and sharp edges and awfully high drops of Jericho? And- what if he didn't make it either? Here, on the very last stretch, the threat seemed much too real. Perhaps they'd never know he made it back, perhaps they'd never even find him in there, he'd just fall to his knees and topple over and deactivate in some remote corner- no, no. It was the last thing he should be thinking about. So he stopped thinking, and started limping onwards.

Markus... needed a moment. You can only carry so many burdens without losing your balance. So he left the main hall of the ship and headed towards one of the many corridors, connecting floors and rooms and all places you could possibly find. Someplace he could just... go, with the excuse of looking for something completely unspecified, to let his thoughts wander just as he did.  
But when he heard steps, and then a silhouette emerging from behind the corner, the silhouette being Simon, just standing right there like nothing happened, all of his processes stopped. Were his optical units tricking him?

When Simon made the turn, he too wasn't sure if what he's seeing is real. He took a few steps and stopped in his tracks when he realized it actually could be.  
Markus. Markus, here. The first person he saw ever since he entered.  
... Markus.  
He parted his lips slightly, mouth half-open and ready to provide an apology, some sort of an explanation, anything,  _anything_ ; but it seemed like his voice box had failed him. All of the words refused to align into sentences, all of the sounds suddenly forgotten.  
Not wanting to leave it at that, he dared to take a step forward.

Markus reacted soon after, surging forwards to cut short the distance that remained between them, and swiftly pulling him into an embrace.   
Simon didn't hesitate for a second to return it, his arms immediately wrapping around the other. He was only now realizing how much he needed that. (Needed? _Wanted?_ ) All the feelings that left him puzzled and lost and all the emotions he's been dealing with until now resurfaced at the same time and his pump regulator skipped a beat, causing the artificial breath to hitch.

"You're back." Markus said finally, so quietly that Simon barely heard it.

 

"... I'm back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are very much appreciated! <3


	10. the silence

There were many unspoken words left between the two of them. Ones they crossed their minds repeatedly, tanyling their thoughts in a tight web, leaving no space for anything else whenever one was near the other.

_I was_  worried about you, from Markus.  _I was hoping that you'll make it back, and you did, it's like a miracle._

From Simon,  _I missed you, I missed you so badly, I just wanted to see you again- see you all once more, return to Jericho even if no one wanted to see me back here._

But neither of them dared to speak up first, so both of them instinctively acted like nothing happened at all.  
There were warm welcomes, some shed tears and embraces from the people he knew for a while now, even including North: it was surprising for him, to see how hard of a time she had coping with the whole situation, despite her bravely gritting her teeth and playing it cool and calm.

But he understood somehow. She didn't see Simon then, she saw risk and time running out and the danger they were putting themselves in. Cold logic that no one else there could afford. Not Josh, certainly not Simon. And apparently not Markus, either. And although he did feel something akin to a tight and very real knot in his stomach whenever he saw her face amongst others, he understood.

Days passed one after another, and in time things almost seemed back to normal. The tension of a revolution being right around the corner wasn't easy on anyone, but was as usual as it could be. Simon was almost convinced about all being back in order, too.  
He returned in one piece, and Markus didn't need to know anything. All the thoughts he had? Maybe he was just lost and desperate, and even if he wasn't - there was no time nor place for that right now.  
He wasn't a priority, and neither were his feelings.   
He wasn't going to act as selfishly as that. Markus  _didn't_  and  _couldn't_  belong to him or with him. And Simon was more or less okay with it. He didn't deserve him, anyway. With him being a simple, outdated, obsolete model, hardly good for anything? What a joke.

So he pushed the feelings downwards, faked a smile, avoided speaking up even though there were so many things he wanted to voice out.  
 _I missed you. I love you. I love you._

Markus didn't have a chance to try and notice, even if he wanted to or had the time for it between leading the people of Jericho, planning their next steps, dealing with new problems as they appeared. There was always so much to do. He realized that the man had stopped seeing individuals, and somehow saw them all as one instead.

_We must do_  this.  _We must go_  there. But what happened with the **I**?  
No, a leader couldn't act selfishly like this.  
So neither of them could, it seemed.

The silence that envolved both of their hearts was somehow even harder now that they were so close, but still so far from one another.


	11. the decision

Which one of them was the one who first broke the silence? They didn’t know. The same thing must’ve been on their minds, though: at some point they found each other in a desolated part of the ship, and it was as if one had been looking for another. It was too convenient of a result for both to have been a coincidence.

Standing in short distance - were they afraid to come up any closer? - they both called out the other’s name, and both awkwardly chuckled afterwards. Simon had to admit in front of himself that it didn’t take away any of Markus’ somewhat regal charm. He decided to give him the first word, just like he always did. It was what he probably expected, too, because he spoke up without any hesitation.

“I’d like to talk to you.” _So would I_ , Simon nodded to both to himself and as a response. However anxious the situation made him, it really couldn’t have been avoided.

He was already ordering words, phrases in his head.  
 _I wanted you to know that I appreciate you. I appreciate you so much, I can hardly think of anything else, but if you’re not okay with that, I understand. I won’t make it hard for you._

“When we had to leave you behind,” Was that a stammer that he heard, or was it only in his head? “I didn’t know what to do. I kept blaming myself, I could’ve made a better decision, I could’ve come up with… something.” His hands tensed and curled into loose fists; he had to forcefully pull one of them open to make a vague gesture in the air, but his gaze remained unwavering. “I was _so angry_ , you know that? I was so angry with myself, with the whole plan, with the guards rushing in and all the humans _ever_ , really, even more than I usually am, than we usually are- I didn’t know it was possible, really.” Another brief, soft laughter, and Simon thought that he himself can’t possibly be in love more than he is now. But he was afraid that whatever would come next could make his heart shatter in pieces, so he didn’t allow himself to enjoy the feeling.

“But now- now you’re back, and I couldn’t be happier. I really felt like a piece of me was left behind with you on that roof. Jericho wasn’t the same without you here.”

Simon folded his hands and started rubbing them together; a calming gesture he didn’t even realize how often he did. He couldn’t tell where Markus was heading. He was trying not to let it get to him, though.

“It was something that I couldn’t take control of. I'm not used to that. Until now, I've been fighting my way through to get to what I needed, but then? The plan went awfully wrong, and for that, I'm sorry. It was my fault. I was so worried I’ll never get to speak to you again. To say what I meant to say.” Markus' voice seemed to waver as he reached the end, and Simon had never wanted anything as badly as now he wanted to hold him close and comfort him. But he didn’t, he couldn’t: he tried speaking up instead.

“Markus…” He started. “It wasn’t your fault, I never blamed you, I could never…” He paused, bit his lip and took a deeper breath, despite not needing one. “I knew about the risk. We all did. We're all really aware of everything that can go wrong, and we're all... ready to pay that price. It doesn’t mean you’re the one responsible for the inevitable. If anything, it’s my fault for making you worry.”

The room fell into silence again, and it seemed like both needed a moment to process all the words that were spoken. But when they did speak, once more they did it simultaneously.

“I’m sorry for that, Markus.”   
“Simon, I think I love you.”


End file.
